Plague Bearer
by clicketykeys
Summary: The gates at Abel Township get stuck and Five is paired up with Eight to run out and distract any zombies that might head toward the compound. Spoilers for Mission 3 of Zombies, Run!
1. Dante's Refrain

**Clip 1 – Dante's Refrain **

[AN: The clip title is a reference to _Clerks_, in which the main character, Dante, is working on his day off. He gets into one impossible situation after another and often expresses his frustration by saying "I'm NOT even supposed to BE here today!"

This mission reminded me a LOT of that.]

* * *

The evening shifts for runners start a few hours after PM rations are given out. I'm still the newest, so I'm stuck with the earliest shift in the morning and the last shift of the evening. After rations, I usually take a short nap, then maybe help out around the compound. We've been clearing an area behind the shed we've got the water and food stored in; Janine wants to plant a garden.

The physical exertion from uprooting weeds is a great way to get warmed up before I stretch, just in time for my run shift. I've gotten used to the klaxons and the gunfire in the mornings and evenings as I heave dirt and weeds into a barrow to be taken over to our mulch pile. I don't have a clock or a watch of my own, so I check the board before I head to the garden and then keep count of how many alarms I've heard so I know when my shift is coming up.

And then I hear Sam's voice cutting into the Radio Abel broadcast. There are speakers near the rations shed, so it's pretty easy to hear while I work. Apparently the gates are stuck. I'm not sure which would be worse, to be honest, for them to be stuck open – or stuck closed, with somebody still outside.

Another alarm goes off, this one low, and it carries over the hullabaloo that's already built up. Sam's yelling for an engineer, and then I hear Seven calling for runners to the gates. And since I haven't gone yet this evening… yep, I'm on the list.

I brush my hands and knees off as best I can, roll my shoulders and pull my heels up to stretch my quads and then bend over to stretch my hamstrings. My calves have been especially tight lately, but they're feeling pretty good right now. Then I hear Sam calling me, personally. Like I'm slacking or trying to hide or something. And then a moment later, the RA broadcast switches back on.

Cursing under my breath, I jog toward the gates, pulling on my headset and getting the earpiece situated. Sounds like once again, they don't trust me to go out on my own. As I get there, I see one of the other runners leaning over, hands on her knees, hacking up a storm.

Of course _that's_my partner. Sara Smith, she says her name is, in between wheezes. I immediately push it as far out of my thoughts as I can. She's Eight, as far as I'm concerned, and that isn't likely to change anytime soon.

We've been asked to strap on this beeper-thing so that the zombies will be attracted to the sound and chase us instead of swarming the township while it's vulnerable. It sounds kind of suicidal, but I guess it's better than standing in the open space left by the jammed gates and acting as a meatwall.

There's already cover fire, so there's no sense wasting any time. We head out through the open gate. Two and Three have already headed out and northwest, so we run a few hundred metres from Abel before turning to the southeast.

It doesn't take long before we hear shuffling foosteps and moans behind us.


	2. So Happy Together Or Not

**Clip 2 – So Happy Together (Or Not)**

The beeping from our backpacks provides a nice counterpoint to the thump of our feet on the ground. It's easy to find my stride, and Eight isn't rasping as badly as she was back in the compound. She reaches up to her headset. "Okay, Abel Township? We're clear. Nice, steady pace. About ten of the zoms on our tail. It's all going well. How're you guys holding up?"

Oh, what, so Phlegmy here gets a working headset and I'm stuck bareheaded? Not that I'm particularly fond of chitchat, but it's the principle of the matter. Granted, I know that with this many runners out at one time

Then again, I don't know that I want Eight's mic anywhere near my mouth.

There's a crackle of static, and then Sam comes through. "Yyyyeah… not so well here, Runner 8. We kinda… uh… the motors are shot, they're telling me. Looks like something got in there and chewed it up." Apparently zombies aren't enough; we've got rats too now, or something along those lines. I don't really want to think about what else might have been chewing at our tech.

And Eight is over here hacking up a lung again. She claims it's a bad chest cold, but the thing is, I haven't heard so many who were in the throes of the Grey Plague that I can tell the difference between that and something less, well, horrifyingly fatal. And for the record, Eight?

I'm not your buddy.

Sam (bless his heart) doesn't flat-out ask us to stay here and continue playing tag with the zombies, but he does pretty much let us know that they're not done yet. Fortunately I still feel spry enough to stay away from Eight's spittle and, if needed, to outpace her if the horde starts getting a little too close. Like I said: not your buddy.

"That cough… yer okay, aren't ya, runner 8?" Seriously, he has this whole nervous-grandmother thing going on. It's sort of amusing when you're not the one under scrutiny.

"It's just a COUGH," she protests. She apparently hasn't learned that it's just best to roll your eyes and wait it out.

I can hear Sam's sigh through Eight's headset – she's got the headphone on my side flipped so it faces out. "Yeah, we just have to be careful, that's all. You know the drill – first a cough, then a rattle, then a moan – "

Eight cuts him off, finishing the cheerful little jingle. "That's how y'know the dead are walking. It's just a COUGH, Sam." She looks at me and rolls her eyes, and I almost smile but I remind myself that _we are not buddies_and the impulse passes without incident. "He's always fussing about something," she grumbles, as if a hacking, deep-chested cough that won't go away is nothing. And then, as though to make her point, she goes into a fit of coughing so bad it slows her down for a few steps.

She sees me eyeing her suspiciously, and she smirks back at me. "Hey, Sam! If it bothers you so much, I'm turning off this transmitter. That way you won't have to hear my coughing."

I feel my eyes widen and hear the click of the switch, followed by Sam's voice fading out: "Woah, no y'don't! That's not how … "

Eight turns her head my way, and her grin is so smug I want to punch her even more than I did earlier. "That's better. Now, it's just you – and me."

Thanks, Eight. I feel _so_ much better.


	3. Buddies

**Clip 3 – "Buddies"**

We jogged along in silence for a short while, but it didn't take long for Eight to find her 'stride,' so to speak. "Sooo," she said, drawing it out. "Y'just came down in that chopper a coupla days ago, huh? Must've been pretty scary." Right, Eight. You're soooo concerned about my psychological well-being. "Seems like you were the only one who survived. At least, we haven't seen any other sign of survivors."

There was a rasping off to our left, and I felt Eight's hand pushing down on my shoulder. I turned, fist cocked, ready by this point to slam it into her face, but the sight of a nine-millimeter pointed in my direction made me rethink that pretty quickly. "Duck down there just a second, honey," Eight said, and I barely had a chance to do so before she fired.

"There we go," she continued, like it was nothing. I looked over my shoulder and saw that the zombie was now missing the top of its head, in addition to the various bits and pieces that had rotted away previously. The creature's moans had ceased, but it swayed uncertainly in place for a moment, as though it couldn't quite figure out what had happened, before it toppled to the ground.

The zombie had been a good fifty meters from us. Eight's casual accuracy made me rethink my plan of simply running off if her cough got any worse. Fortunately I could still feel Hewie's reassuring weight hanging from my shoulders.

"We don't usually have guns," Eight explained. "There's not enough to go 'round. But they like t'try and help us out on a decoy mission like this." _Help_ you_ out, _I thought glumly to myself. _I'm not likely to get to touch one of those anytime soon, let alone take one out on a mission._

I'd picked up a few nine-millimeter handguns and a shotgun or two at the sporting goods store I'd raided on a previous run. Places like that were a bit dodgy; when things first got bad, that was the last place you wanted to go. Sure, you wanted equipment, but so did everyone else, and in a matter of hours you'd be looking at a full-on zombie mob. But enough time had gone by that you weren't in any more danger there than you would be anywhere else.

Unfortunately, I was not to be the beneficiary of my hard word – other than, well, food, clothing and shelter, I suppose. I guessed that counted for something. Eight's gun looked like a Glock 17, which meant that if the magazine had been full, there were quite a few rounds left before I was safe.

Dammit.

Eight must've figured she'd justified the gun well enough, because she went right back to her none-too-subtle interrogation. "Amazing how you turned up here. Just dropped out of the sky, after someone fired a rocket launcher at your helicopter. That's really strange, isn't it? I mean, you were just bringing in supplies."

Actually, I really hadn't thought it was all that strange to drop out of the sky after the copter got hit. I figure it'd be a darn sight more amazing if I'd sprouted wings and been able to fly off. I was tempted to snap at her, tell her I'd gladly trade places, but I just kept my mouth shut, even if I had to clench my teeth a bit.

We ran on, ducking a couple of low-hanging tree limbs. "We've been in touch with a military base a hundred miles north, and they do some drops of meds and wet-weather gear, that sort of thing. So. Who would DO a thing like that?"

Clearly, the question was rhetorical, but I found myself grinning in spite of myself, because I desperately wanted to retort, "YOUR MOM." I really, really wanted to see what she would do if I did.

But then I reminded myself that there were probably quite a few rounds left in that handgun. And despite how rotten the world was right now, I still preferred living in it to… well… not.

"And d'you know what I keep thinking about? How do we even know it was YOU on that chopper at all? We haven't got any way to transmit pictures anymore, so we didn't know what you'd look like. Sure, y'turn up in the right uniform. But that could've been stripped from a body. You might not've been in that chopper at all. It might've been you who shot it down."

Was there _nothing_ that would shut this woman up? And then, as though in answer to my silent plea, there was the crunch of heavy feet on underbrush, and a very-familiar moaning.

That may have been the first time I'd ever actually been _glad_ to hear a zombie nearby.

"Duck y'head down for a minute. Wouldn't want to hit you by MISTAKE." That one was a sprinter, less than ten yards away and closing fast, but Eight barely blinked.

I sighed._ Fourteen shots to go…_


	4. I Don't Think That Sounds as Good as

**Clip 4 – I Don't Think That Sounds as Good as I Think You Think It Sounds**

"There," Eight said in satisfaction. "Got 'im. That was a close one." Which, I felt, neatly summed up this entire run and every moment I spent around Runner Eight. For a moment I thought about suggesting we split up – after all, in theory, we could divert even more zombies that way – but then I wouldn't put it past her to circle around and get me surrounded and leave me to perish.

And then she added, "Better stay close," as though she were thinking the very same thing about me! Hey, Eight, I'M not the one about to go grey and making not-very-veiled threats.

There was a click – I looked over and I saw her hand up to her headset, and I realized she'd turned her mic back on. "Hey there, Sam!" she said brightly.

_Bitch._

"Were you worrying 'bout us?" She hacked up another bit of phlegm before continuing, "Just didn't want to irritate you with this cough, that's all."

"Never, ever, EVER, Runner 8… Runner 8, you – you know you never, EVER turn your radio off. NEVER do that! … Okay?!" At that moment, I could have kissed Sam Yao.

Fortunately for him, though, he wasn't there. Eight smirked at me. "He gets lonely without us," she quipped. I had the unpleasant mental image of Sam trying to flirt with Eight. _Wonderful,_ I thought. _Just what I needed – more nightmare fuel._

"I – I heard that!" Sam sputtered. "And it's not. About. ME. Okay? It's about keepin' you alive! Eight more've joined the pack chasing you; you're still ahead of 'em. Just – just keep going." I could picture him sitting in that beat-up rolling chair he had in his 'office,' rubbing at his temples in frustration. _Could be worse, Sam. I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat._

Eight glanced up between the trees. "We're heading west. We clear?"

A groan of frustration came through our headsets. "This is why you never ever turn off your radio! There's a swarm to the west, and we think they've – UGH. Yeah. Here we go. They've heard you. That's zoms to your west, east, and – yeah, south." Eight glanced at me, and this time it was my turn to smirk. _See what comes of being such an intolerably smug bitch?_ Not that I was any better off, despite having kept my mouth shut.

"Hmh," said Eight thoughtfully. "Well then." She looked around. The swarm wasn't visible yet, but if Sam says it's there, it's there. The one to the south of us was maybe sixty or seventy meters away, and the one to the east, that picked up on us after those gunshots, was a little farther, say a hundred meters or more.

It would be easy to blame Eight for that second pack, but the truth is, both of the zoms she picked off were sprinting at us. Oh, we could've outrun them; I'm sure five minutes all-out and we would've been free and clear of either one. Of course, we also would have lost the swarm that we were supposed to be keeping on our tail, too.

No, much as I hate to admit it, Eight made the right call in those situations.

Then she looked over at me and smiled. And while her coughing was freaking me out, with all kinds of horrible possibilities sprouting in my fertile imagination, her smile was almost worse, because I had no idea why she would be smiling at a time like this. We were being penned in by zombies on three sides, and from everything I'd heard about New Canton, they weren't a whole lot friendlier.

"Time to head north," Eight said to me. And then she winked. "I've got a plan."


	5. With Friends Like These

**Clips 5 & 6 – With Friends Like These…**

* * *

"Hey Sam" said Eight, oh-so-casually. "It occurs to me that we haven't really shown Five here the neighborhood – or the neighbors." I can already tell which direction this is headed, and I don't like it. In fact, that statement sums up the whole of my relationship with Eight pretty darn well.

There was a brief silence, and then Sam started in, somewhat uncertainly, "Y'mean New Canton?"

"I sure as heck don't mean the zombies," Eight retorted, looking over at me with a grin.

I kept running without so much as glancing in her direction. I could still see her in my peripheral vision, though, and I'm sure she knew it.

Sam still didn't sound all that convinced. "Do we … WANT to start a war with New Canton?"

"Just a little _payback_, Sam." She kept her voice light, but there was an edge to it. "Doncha remember how they herded those zoms toward us when they were building new barracks?"

Even though we're miles away, I can picture Sam up in the comms shack, squinching his mouth up the way he sometimes does, rubbing one hand over the bridge of his nose. "Awwwwh… yeahhh, but…"

"If the Major were here, we'd check with her," Eight cut in before he could protest further. "As it is, New Canton's to the north. Our exit is to the north. You know it makes sense." She enunciated that last part so hard that she was practically spitting.

_Right,_ I thought, though I didn't say a damned thing aloud. _This is all about what makes sense. Sure, Eight. And when we get back, we're going to get hot showers and pedicures._

"Speed up – quick – towards New Canton," Eight told me, and lengthened her stride, hacking a bit in the process, without giving me a chance to protest.

Not that I would have anyway. Normally I'd trust Sam over Eight in a heartbeat. But then, he's back at Abel, nice and safe – hopefully. He's not the one out here in the field, running beside me.

And of course there's the little matter of the gun.

* * *

We ran on for a little while, backpacks beeping, before Eight sort of started edging toward me. I was a little creeped out – even more than usual, that is – until I looked over and saw the fence and gate to what I guessed was New Canton a few hundred yards away. I couldn't help noticing that Eight had begun veering toward it even before it was in sight. I didn't want to think about what that might mean.

There was a clatter of gunfire, and then a voice. It was over a loudspeaker, though, instead of through our headset – and it was definitely not Sam. "STOP! In the name of New Canton, not a STEP further!"

It was the guns that slowed me down, rather than the shouting. Eight shouted at me as well, reminding me that there was an enormous pack of zombies behind us, _as though I had forgotten about that._

Bitch.

I mean, granted, I sure as anything don't want to be a zombie snack. But I'm not particularly keen on getting shot, either.

We were now less than a hundred yards out. "Stop!" came the shout over the loudspeaker. "Stop or we shoot to kill!"

"Keep going!" insisted Eight.

_I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you._ But by this point, the noise and the lights from New Canton had attracted the attention of the swarm, and when we began to turn slightly, I could see that they were heading for the gates rather than following us anymore.

There was more gunfire, but thankfully, now it was aimed at the zombies rather than at us. "Township SCUM!"

* * *

"Wahoooo! Well, THAT'S one way to take down a bunch of zoms!" Eight crowed. I shot her a dirty look and she rolled her eyes at me. "Oh, don't worry about New Canton. They've got the firepower to deal with them. Means you and me are home free." She put a hand to her headset. "Hey, Sam! How's the gate coming?"

There was a pause – probably he switched over to another channel to radio Janine or one of the techie sorts. "Yeah – nearly there. Come on in if you're not dragging a pack behind you."

We'd been out for a while, but we'd zigzagged a bit, so I figured we probably weren't more than ten minutes or so away from Abel. _Thank God._ I made a mental note to find out who was in charge of assignments and cozy up to whoever it was so that I'd never _ever_ get paired up with Eight again.

She didn't actually turn off her headset, but she ever so carefully moved the microphone away from her mouth, and lowered her voice. "I guess this turned out to be less of a good time for a little chit-chat than I hoped, Five. Truth is… I wanted to find out if I could trust you." I could tell by the set of her jaw that she still wasn't sure about it, but she went on anyway. "There's some pretty strange stuff going on 'round here. The major's called away on urgent business. Someone brings a chopper down, firing from the middle of the zombie wilderness. And YOU turn up like a white knight. Too. Damn. Convenient. Five."

Fortunately, before she could continue making idiotic accusations, there was a sigh of relief through our earpieces. "Got 'er working again! Ahhh! Welcome home, runners. Great run – not a SINGLE hostile ANYWHERE near our gates."

"Oh, YEAH. Me and Runner five here make a GREAT team. We'll be going out together all the time. Won't we, Five?" She started hacking again, as though that was the best way to convince me.

_I hate you so much._

Sam didn't sound as sure, though. "Uhhh… yeah… mmm… maybe not next time, though. We're getting reports that there might be a child stuck in no-man's land. Get some rest, Runner Five, because we'll need you to do another fast run as soon as you can."

He sounded a bit apologetic, but after the time I'd spent with Runner Eight, heading out to face the mindless undead sounded almost pleasant in comparison.

* * *

[AN: Hurray! I finally finished. The closing sequence (Missions 21-23) is coming up next, because I have some ideas for what happens immediately after you hear the final _## Mission complete._ Hope you like it! DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW! ]


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